The Yard Sale
by Gingeraffealene
Summary: Merlin's done waiting. Time to clean out and move on. And no hallucinations of his friends will stop him. Destiny will have to do better than that.


The Yard Sale

One day, out of the blue, it occurred to him. _He isn't coming back. _

He had waited and prepared and waited some more. Always waiting. Never truly free to simply leave and never return. He had always returned to the shores of the lake, but Arthur never did.

_He isn't coming back._

The portal was closed. Everyone was gone.

_He isn't coming back._

Mankind could now travel so safely and so easily. They could even go into space! But not Merlin. He had traveled a bit, but never for long. He always came back, but his friends never would. He stared out over the lake sparkling in the sunshine.

_That's it. I'm done._

Wars, atrocities, plagues, natural disasters, the rise and fall of civilizations. If they didn't bring the prat back, nothing would. Why worry? Why wait?

_Time to let go. _

His home on the banks of the lake was a vault of memories. The underground storage, the closets, the shelves, the extra rooms, they were all full of centuries' worth of yesteryear's treasures. There was no longer any point in hanging onto things. He could put them in museums, or put them up for auction. It would astonish the scholarly community to have such treasures come to light. He could make a mint, if he cared to. But he'd pay dearly from the purse of his cherished privacy if he disposed of his treasures so publicly. He'd be hunted and hounded by historians and journalists. No. He'd quietly do it himself and let any of his neighbors end up on the Antiques Roadshow with a few major finds. He could see it now:

"I paid 5 pounds for this at a yard sale."

"Really? Well, I'm sure the owner would be perturbed to know that he received a mere 5 pounds for a priceless historical artefact. You should insure it for at least 30 million…"

Merlin grinned to himself. Somehow it tickled his funny bone and would give him something to laugh about for centuries to come.

_Time for a yard sale._

Yes. A yard sale it was. And what a yard sale it would be! The yard sale of the centuries.

-M-

On a suddenly sunny Saturday morning -it _had_ been threatening rain- the neighborhood awoke to see the spacious lawns of their somewhat reclusive neighbor's estate covered in all sorts of memorabilia tagged and sorted. Signs proclaiming YARD SALE - EVERYTHING GOES! and pointing the way decorated the streets throughout town.

The yard sale turned into quite the party as the first customers arrived -a group of youths on their way home after a night on the town- and began perusing the assortment of medieval-looking manacles and shields.

"Sick! This could be great for Halloween."

"Oh yeah," agreed the owner, who had materialized by the teen's side. He eyed the young man critically from head to toe. "You know, you may be interested in some armor I've got over here. You're the right build.. I think it'd fit you perfectly."

The teen's friends murmured encouragingly. The young man allowed himself to be persuaded.

"Sick!"

Merlin grinned. "Right this way."

-M-

The legendary King Arthur and his noble knights of his Round Table had returned.

Albion's need was great. Apparently.

They waded out of the Lake of Avalon, sloshing and slogging their way over the mud and rocks, staring up at the strange manor before them. It looked particularly large and fine although the architecture was decidedly foreign. The grounds were manicured with beautifully trimmed grass and bountiful beds of exotic looking flowers. The men glanced questioningly at each other.

"What now, Princess?"

The king neglected to reply, instead mumbling under his breath, "Where is that idiot! Merlin was supposed to meet us here."

"What was that, Sire?" inquired a tall knight with golden curls.

The king cleared his throat. The Return wasn't going at all like he'd imagined it would.

"Ah, well, I was wondering where Merlin is. I was given the impression that he'd be here."

The knights all nodded. Wherever the king was, his trusty manservant was never far behind and it was common knowledge that Merlin had been awaiting the the King's return for well over a millennium. The arrival of the knights was meant to be a happy surprise as well.

"Perhaps we should search the grounds, Sire," responded Sir Leon.

"Yeah. You know Merlin. Never punctual," added the mountainous Sir Percival.

The king nodded and took the lead heading across the grounds.

—M—

Music and colorful banners caught their attention as they rounded the corner and approached the grounds in front of the grand manor.

"Is it a festival?"

"I don't believe so, Sire. By the weather, I'm guessing it's well past May Day."

The king and his faithful knights approached the heavily laden tables the gang of youths looked over and whistled appreciatively. "Brilliant gear! You blokes go all out!"

The knights stared openly at the gangly youths in their strange, shabby clothing. Arthur wasn't too sure, but he thought one or two of them might actually be young women. He opened his mouth to address the most sensible looking youth to inquire about the festivities and whether or not he'd seen the Warlock Emrys in the vicinity when said warlock breezed past with a cheery greeting.

"Hi, Arthur. Oh! I see you brought the knights with you this time."

Merlin was unsurprised at the appearance of his old friend, his abandoned Destiny. However, he was mildly entertained to see that this time his hallucination had brought along company. Generally, when he saw Arthur it was only the king and he didn't speak much, but, supposed Merlin, Destiny would up the game if it wanted to keep him on the string. This time he was seriously done.

"Hey, man, what's this? Looks like an oversized version of my gran's planter."

Arthur followed hot on Merlin's heels only to stop and stare in anger and dismay.

"It was actually an ancient bathtub belonging to royalty, but it could easily be converted into a cheap jacuzzi...or you could fill it with ice and stash drinks in it if you throw a huge party."

"Sick."

Merlin fist bumped the teen.

"Are these children ill, Merlin?"

"No Arthur, they just really like my collection and that's how they express themselves these days. Get with the times."

'Hey, Merlin, can I really buy Arthur's old sword for 15 pounds?"

"No Gwaine!"

"Yeah, I don't know Gwaine. Do you even have the cash to pay for it? No IOU's! No waiting for payment. I'm letting it all go now and I'm moving to Tazmania."

"Tazmania? Where is Tazmania...and WHAT'S in Tazmania?!"

"I don't really know. It's just got a wild sounding name and I have no history there. It's a great place for a fresh start and that's what I'm looking for."

"Merlin. I'm pretty sure I've got coin," began the knight, "if Morgana didn't go through my pockets after she killed me, then I should still have the last silvers and maybe a few farthings I picked up at the Rising Sun's gaming table." He rummaged around in this clothing and his hand emerged, clutching several coins.

Merlin surveyed them casually. "Well considering that by 1915 a penny was worth around one-sixth what it had been worth during the Middle Ages and prices have risen around 61-fold since then I'd guess you've got the purchasing equivalent of about… 17 pounds there, mate."

Gwaine grinned and headed back for the sword.

"Gwaine! I said NO!" yelled the king.

"Why not, Princess? You don't need it now that you've got Excalibur."

"It's my spare, Gwaine." Turning back to pursue the salesman-warlock he gasped, "Is that my old training shield?!" He checked the brightly colored price tag affixed to the shield. "Merlin! It's worth so much more than that!" He gasped again and snatched an item from the nearby table and did some more quick math in his head. "Fifty pence for my old flask?! What are you thinking?!'

Merlin shrugged and turned as one of the youths addressed him.

"Mate, nobody's gonna want these rags." He held up the musty, ragged remains of tattered trousers and a soiled shirt.

"I agree, they are far out of fashion, but once upon a time a king wore them as a disguise to rather charming effect. I kept them out of pure sentimentality. Great memories."

The teens looked disbelieving. The king looked mortified. Gwaine looked gleeful.

"And anyway, it's just ten pence for the lot. If you don't want to wear them, they'll make great rags for polishing your car."

"Whoa! Check it out! Failed Taxidermy!" called a boy and his friends rushed over to join him.

To Arthur's confusion the laughing teens all pulled rectangular boxes from their pockets and held them up before the frozen figure of a horse. The horse looked incredibly familiar. He'd know that fine form anywhere! Hengroen! His finest and favourite steed. Merlin had managed to preserve him through some sort of sorcery! Arthur stroked the flank and lovingly brushed his fingers through the coarse mane. The ridiculous youths backed away now staring at their rectangles and comparing them while laughing uproariously. Merlin jogged over.

"Merlin, it's perfect that you've preserved my mount. Please restore him to life now."

"I can't restore him. It's not magic, it's taxidermy."

The king moved past the warlock to pet the horse's soft nose. "MERLIN! What did you do?!" He stared shocked and horrified by the disfigured face of his beloved steed. One eye bugged out much further than the other and they were distinctly cross-eyed. The mouth seemed to smile ridiculously displaying the teeth while a slip of the tongue poked out. He turned toward the traitorous warlock.

Merlin threw his hands up and shrugged. "I was a beginner!"

A girl held up a blue cloak and swung it through the air and then began to wrap it around herself.

"Oooh! This would be great for cosplay!"

The king strode toward her and pulled it away from her hands rather unchivalrously and tossed it back on the table.

"Not for sale."

He glared at Merlin. "Really? You were going to sell my sneaking around cloak! It's the only thing I own that isn't Pendragon red or screaming 'royalty!' How could you, Merlin!"

The peeved warlock snatched the cloak back from the table. "If you recall, Sire, that was MY cloak in the first place that I let you BORROW and you never returned it." He handed it back to the slack jawed girl who was popping her chewing gum while watching the exchange. "That'll be two pounds."

"Cheers!"

After a while Merlin noticed silence on Illusion-Arthur's part and looked about to make sure the hallucination was really over only to see the king staring dolefully at his dusty throne. He glanced up as Merlin approached but said nothing. Merlin read it all in the hurt in Arthur's eyes. _You would sell my throne. I'm no longer your king. You really are done with it all. Done with me. _

Merlin stared at him perplexedly. His visions, daydreams, hallucinations had never taken such a strange and realistic detour before. He cocked his head to the side studying the illusion of his king. Then his eyes traveled over to Percival and Leon who were helpfully showing the young men how to put on armor -"Blinding!"- to Lancelot and Elyan who were examining a vintage toaster, and then to Gwaine who was surreptitiously hefting the king's old sword and then back to the king himself.

Arthur watched his former friend and manservant stop and observe him with a strange expression upon his angular features. Hurt filled his soul. He hadn't been the one to choose the time of his reappearance. It wasn't fair that Merlin had given up on him just as he was to return. The unfairness of it all and the callous treatment he'd received thus far at Merlin's hands pushed his patience past its limits. He cast his eyes about for any object upon which he could vent his frustrations. Ah! Perfect! He picked up one of his trusty goblets marked for sale at a price of two pounds, aimed for his former manservant's head and heaved with all his might.

Merlin didn't move...until the goblet bashed him just left of center on his forehead, leaving behind a lump that was sure to bloom into a massive goose egg. He tumbled to the ground more out of shock than anything. He reached across the grass to grasp the goblet and then rolled onto his back just as his repentant king reached his side and dropped to his knees.

"Merlin? Merlin? Are you alright?" He pushed Merlin's black fringe back from his forehead to survey the damage he'd wrought and swore quietly. "I didn't mean to hurt you! I mean, you always dodged in the past and I …"

Merlin stared wonderingly up at Arthur reaching up tentatively to touch his golden hair. "It's you," he whispered, "You're really back. You're real. Arthur? You're real? You're real!" He began hyperventilating.

The knights ran over and circled around the king and the warlock on the ground.

"What'd you do to him, Princess!" snarled an extremely upset Gwaine.

Merlin stared at him wordlessly for a moment and then back at his king.

"Arthur. You're back. It's really you. This isn't another hallucination?" He looked around at them all. "Gwaine! Leon! Elyan! Percival! Lancelot? I'm not dreaming?"

The mail-clad men merely smiled down at him reassuringly.

"Albion's greatest need. When all hope is lost." He continued staring until his vision fuzzed and he blinked, sending the abundant tears streaming down his cheeks. "I lost all hope. I gave up, Arthur. I gave up," he whispered sadly and found himself crushed in a sudden embrace that became a dogpile of knightly bodies.

After a moment or two the knights pulled themselves apart and hoisted Merlin to his feet. His million kilowatt grin lit up the world as his friends patted him on the back and ruffled his hair.

"Hey, mister, how much for this dagger-thingy?" called a young voice.

The warlock froze. _**What was I thinking!**_ "Sale's over!" Merlin called out suddenly. His eyes flashed, Silently and gently all the young people set the items down, eyes glazing over, and made their way back across the lawns. As they reached the sidewalk they began laughing and talking loudly never once casting a glance in the direction from whence they'd just come.

Another flash of Merlin's eyes and all the signs, banners and merchandise began packing itself up and marching back through the wide open doors of Merlin's home.

He turned to his friends, his smiling eyes blue once again. "C'mon in!"

"I'm still interested in that sword, mate," Gwaine whispered conspiratorially as he passed.

"NO," boomed Arthur directly behind him. "Not for fifteen pounds! It's worth a thousand if it's worth a farthing!"

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A/N: This little fic was written to cheer on Farmgirl in all her yard sale endeavors. Hope it made you smile!


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